The Writer's End
by barnabashartthefirst
Summary: A father, and former Curse-Breaker for Gringotts comes home to his family, scarred (quite literally) from an unknown malady that may mark the end of the wizarding world. Contains only references to book characters, but is set firmly in The Wizarding World of Harry Potter


The Writer's End

The man stood in the cool morning air, a gentle breeze pressing at his face. The dull blue of the coming dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon - it was still too early for the birds to sing. He stood in front of a small cottage in the middle of a field, that was itself in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but gentle hills and more fields. The cottage was of simple stone brickwork, with a roof that one might imagine was previously thatched, but had been repaired into a cold slate. It was a pretty dwelling by all means, the small wooden window frames crossed by thin metal strips, the glow of candlelight inside. His eyes were somewhat bleary from a lack of sleep, their cold blue surrounded by forked lines of red. His heart felt heavy, as though it were sinking into his stomach. He knew he would have to tell her soon. As he looked down from the horizon he noticed a bed of flowers that looked a tad worse for wear, and reaching into the inside pocket of his brown jacket, he drew a thin piece of carved wood from within. The wand was slender, perhaps to encourage delicacy in it's use, and had been painted a blue so dark it could be mistaken for black. A raised line spiralled up around the wand, turning 3 times before tapering into it's own absence. This spiral section, as well as a simple ring around the base of the wand were coated in a delicate gold leaf that had chipped away after many years of use, even after being replaced multiple times. He directed the wand at the flowers, muttering something warm under his breath, that smoked out from his mouth in the crisp autumn air. The flowerbed slowly grew to life again, the colours becoming more vibrant, the flowers more proud to exist. The man sighed. He was exhausted in a way only someone at the end of a long road could feel.

'Orion?' came a voice from behind him.

He looked round, and behind him stood a brown haired woman, still in her nighty, holding a steaming mug of tea. She was slender but not as tall as that word might imply, and was far more likely to be called pretty than beautiful. Her blue eyes had flecks of gold in them, and as she called his name the sun peaked its first rays over the horizon, highlighting the gold but causing her to shield them. He gave a pained smile, apparently trying to hide something. She noticed, and walked over to him purposefully, taking his hand in one of hers, her other reaching to his cheek. 'I thought you were going to be back last night?'

'I was- I was caught up at work. Some shenanigans regarding the Potter children are apparently newsworthy, and apparently I had to be around for the whole recounting of the story.' he said, a tad unconvincingly.

'The Potter children?' she enquired, a confused expression spreading across her face. 'I thought the Prophet was trying to spare poor old Harry of too much exposure these days? Didn't they promise to at least try to let his kids grow up in relative normality?'

He gestured with his head to go back indoors, not wishing to comment on it. 'Perhaps he had too much of this last night' she thought. He turned and started to walk back into the house, leaving her stood outside a little longer. She noticed the flowerbed, smiling a little. 'At least that part of him hasn't been beaten down yet'. She turned also, and strode down the stepping stones set into the grass leading towards the door. He was sat at a small wooden table, turning his wand over in his hands quietly and humming a melancholy tune to himself. He looked up as she came through the door, long hair flicked by the wind somewhat.

'Are they not awake yet?' He said, nodding toward the stairs. This might have confused a non-magical person, as from the outside, the cottage appeared to be a bungalow. She shook her head and he looked relieved, as though the world had decided to be merciful today. 'I don't know how to tell her'. The thought lingered somewhat but was disturbed by the salty smell of bacon. He looked up to see her sat in a brightly coloured patchwork armchair that faced away from the door, flicking her wand, as strips of bacon marched along the counter to the frying pan, already filled with oil. Another flick lit the fire, the warmth welcome in the cool morning.

'One egg or two?' she asked, smirking. This was one of his favourite manoeuvres she used to cheer him up, and it was working. A grin spread across his face, his eyes suddenly bright and boyish.

'Two, of course!' he proclaimed, new life breathed into him as he steeled himself for a day without sleep. She laughed as he jumped up, and immediately felt the error in the action. He groaned loudly arched his back, the bones in his spine making a wince-worthy cracking noise. He felt a twinge in his side, and was reminded. He looked up.

'Aurora?' he said to her bowed head. She looked up at him, a warm smile playing across her face. 'I need to talk to - ' He was cut off by the thumping of feet on wooden stairs, and he looked round to see his 7 year old daughter bounding toward him like some crazed rabbit. He looked pleadingly at Aurora, and she mouthed the word 'Later' at him. He nodded regretfully as his daughter buried her head in his shoulder, and returned her embrace as enthusiastically as he could while remaining gentle. Moments later, his son followed, diving down the stairs and occupying his other shoulder. His son was nearly 11 now, but hadn't reached the stage of thinking it was uncool to hug your father. Orion smiled, chuckling edgily with the knowledge of what was to be a foreboding day ahead of him. They all squeezed around the breakfast table, into seats that had been arranged into the sort of booths you might find in a coffee house. Orion flicked his wand toward one of the wooden cabinets, which flew open with a sharp bang. He had overshot it a bit in his tiredness. Another flick, less aggressive this time, and four plates soared out in front of them, while Aurora handled the bacon.

The sun was well and truly up now, and after breakfast they all piled out the front door to await the owls. The first could be seen, only a small speck in the distance, coming toward them from the opposite direction to the sun. The Tawny arrived, shiftily perching on the wooden gate at the foot of the garden, carrying this morning's issue of the Daily Prophet. The headline in large letters read: "The Next Generation of Troublemakers?", and beneath it was a large picture of a slightly beat-up looking Albus Potter being led away from the press by his father. Orion looked at it with distaste. He disliked working there, even though the pay was good. He had had to leave his former position as an apprentice Curse Breaker for Gringotts after the birth of his second child, which in his opinion was a "giant pain in the arse". It had been fantastic good fun, but all of it seemed a distant memory after 7 and a half years of editing for the Prophet. He had even once met the great Bill Weasley at a christmas party, who he idolised somewhat. 'How'd that lucky mess marry a girl like that?' he'd caught himself thinking aloud, unluckily close to Aurora at the time. Orion was sure he still had the bruise. He was 31 now - how time flies.

A second speck in the distance shook him from his nostalgia, the silence suddenly punctuated by his son's hopeful yelling. Oscar had been waiting for his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts since his mother had told him it existed, and was now eagerly jumping up and down. The first owl was always the Prophet, and they didn't frequently get a second. As it neared Oscar's shouting became more frantic, and when the owl finally landed on the same gate as the first, he nearly tackled it in his scramble to get the envelope attached to it's leg. It addressed to him. He darted back inside, tearing open the envelope without care for damaging the contents, and read his letter with the kind of anticipation you normally only see from children on Christmas day. Standing in the doorway, Orion watched as his son beamed up at him.

'I guess we'll have to make a trip to Diagon Alley then, eh?' He said, his son nodding frantically in response. Oscar didn't know how to contain his newfound energy, and sprinted out into the garden and out the gate, finding his way into the middle of the next field along. Orion didn't have the energy, and walked slowly to his son's position. Oscar was now lying in the dewy morning grass on his back, having exhausted the initial rush of adrenaline, and was helped to his feet by his dad.

'We can't go today, I'm afraid' said Orion, trying and failing to sound reassuring, as though he was making a promise that they would go in his statement to the contrary. Oscar looked a tad disappointed at first, but then a grin spread across his face. 'We'd better spend today practicing my Broom-work then!' he concluded, Orion groaning in response but begrudgingly accepting this plan. The only reason he hadn't wanted to go to Diagon Alley that day was his tiredness, and his need to talk to Aurora about… Forget that. At least home was close if he needed a rest from his son's Quidditch obsession. Orion had never much cared for Quidditch, but was an acceptable player regardless. He had been asked in his time at Hogwarts to play for Ravenclaw's team, but declined - he'd rather have spent his time reading, or practicing jinxes. He'd met Aurora after leaving - she had attended Beauxbatons, though wasn't French. She was American originally, but her parents had emigrated to France when she was small, and hadn't the inclination to ship her back to Ilvermorny in the States for school.

The day wore on slowly from there, Orion's obvious exhaustion stretching minutes into hours. He tried to kip a little in the afternoon, but was soon woken by an indignant Oscar, who said that Ella was not a good enough opponent for him. It was Ella's intention to go to Beauxbatons like her mother, even though her parents had repeatedly told her that they don't often accept people who live in Hogwarts' catchment area - something about "too much rivalry". She was a quietly stubborn young girl with silky brown hair that matched Aurora's perfectly, but eyes of a grey-blue that were most definitely her father's. Orion often had to remind himself that you weren't to take favourites as a parent, reminded so much as he was of himself by Ella.

It had reached evening, and after supper the children were led upstairs by their father, who fell asleep with his nose in the Tales of Beadle the Bard. Both of his children were scared by the story of The Three Brothers for some reason, even though Oscar no longer admitted it, so he had to promise to pick a different story from that particular book whenever he brought it upstairs with him. Aurora quietly padded up the stairs, having noticed that Orion had not come down in a while. She gently roused him from his sleep and led him downstairs.

They reached the bottom stair together, but as they started across the stone floor, he let out a pained groan, colder and harsher than he had that morning, clutching his side once more. Aurora caught him before he fell to the floor, looking at him with a mixture of concern and fear in her eyes. He looked at her pleadingly, the pain in his eyes present, and hobbled with her aid over to the armchair. He thumped down in it, the gnawing pain in his side worsening gradually. 'I was trying to tell you this morning' he gasped, eyes now watering with the strain of keeping himself composed. His drowsiness was now shattered, and he spoke through laboured breaths. 'Work finished late yesterday, and on my way out I started feeling this…' he gestured to his side. 'I didn't know what to do, but Fawley was there - he saw me and helped me up. We apparated to St. Mungo's and one of their Healers took a look at me…' Orion lifted his shirt at his side, revealing a long, vicious mark across his skin, as though something had torn through it. Aurora gasped as she saw it, and Orion continued. 'They tried to heal it, but somehow it kept returning every half hour, until finally this one bloke came in and performed the most lengthy healing charm I've ever heard, and it seemed to ease off. They said to go home and get some rest up, but none of them knew what was going on. I was going to tell you this morning but we were interrupted'. By this point the pain seemed to become unbearable, and Orion doubled over, gagging on the strain of preventing the sound of his agony.

'We need to get you help' Aurora said, in a voice so weak, it sounded more as though she was trying to reassure herself than him. She grabbed some dust-like powder from a small pouch by the fireplace, and threw it into the flames, muttering "Fawley's House" quickly. She shoved her head into the flames, seeing out into Fawley's living room. He was reclined on his couch, and jumped a foot in the air on seeing Aurora's head in his fireplace. He was a few years Orion's senior, but looked old enough to be his father. She yelled at him to get to their place, and he immediately turned on the spot, vanishing, only to reappear behind her. He looked grim, guilty almost, as though he knew what was wrong immediately. By this point the noises from downstairs had woken Oscar, who now peered around the bannister.

'What's going on…?' He said, half sleepy, half panicked. Aurora just looked at him before returning to Orion's side, who was now wheezing uncontrollably on the throw rug in the middle of the room. He looked anywhere between throwing up and passing out, and judging by how pale he had become, one wouldn't be unfair to expect both. 'Stay here' she instructed Fawley, who nodded furiously. 'Aurora can be quite fierce when she wants to be…' he thought to himself. He turned to Oscar, 'Your dad just needs some help, don't worry yourself'. This did not placate him, and he came padding down the stairs just as Aurora vanished with Orion.

A young healer sat in one of the many treatment rooms of St. Mungo's.'The ward is quiet tonight' thought Edgecombe, looking around the beds. He sat down behind the desk in the corner of the room, shuffling open his paper. He turned to the third page to begin reading about the Potter incident, and maybe reached the second paragraph before there was a whip-like crack from the hall. He rocketed out of his chair and out into the hall to find a witch clinging onto the wizard who had been in before with that curious mark on his side. He called for help as he aided Aurora in dragging her husband to the nearest available bed, while the other patients around were now rousing, and looking on with confusion as a team of Healers ran in through the door. Orion writhed and contorted, sweating profusely though his shirt, which was torn off him by a Healer to his left. They fretted over the wound in his side, some of them performing charms to keep his temperature down, others desperately muttering counter-curses in the hope they would find out what had happened to him, but to no avail.

Finally one of them performed a pain-numbing charm, purplish-blue light flashing from their wand tip, and they disbanded to discuss what was possible. Aurora was now slumped back in the chair, silently crying and fretting over what to do. Orion was flitting in and out of consciousness, spluttering incoherent sentences as he did so. There was no blood. The mark on his side was not a cut, not a blister. Nobody knew quite what it was. It didn't look like a reaction to any known curse or jinx, and the Healers were as confused as Aurora. Orion seemed to come around for a little longer. He looked up at Aurora, pain no longer in his eyes. It had been replaced by a solemn glance, within which something worried his wife more than the pained expression had. He had accepted his fate, and somehow Aurora knew that he was right. He glanced at her wand, which she was turning in her hands, then slid his gaze back to meet hers. She knew what he meant. A deep despair gripped her, hanging over her like a winter blanket in spring. She felt empty, cold and lifeless sat beside him, and it dawned on her. Her children didn't come to mind. All she could think of was her husband's misery.

'I need you to do it' he mumbled, with what seemed to be the last modicum of effort he could muster. She shook her head, the tears now streaming down her face. She knew the situation was hopeless. He couldn't make it. Even if the Healers worked out how to fix the problem he was long beyond the point of repair now. She drew her wand to her side, standing slowly. Orion nodded, his mind filling with images of the day before, as though his thoughts were offering him one final comfort. He felt pangs of regret powering through him, angry at how suddenly his time was to be over. He did his best not to think of his children's future as Aurora placed her wand tip to his chest. 'Avada… Av…' she choked on the words, muttering them under her breath, unable to stomach the curse. 'It's okay' he said. 'This is the kindest way that curse has ever been used'. She gave him one final, pained smile.

'Avada Kedavra'

Green light flowed from her wand tip, and he fell still. The curse had never looked so gentle. Aurora collapsed onto her husband's chest, as the Healers came running into the room.

Orion stood in the cool morning air, a gentle breeze pressing at his face. The dull blue of the coming dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon - it was still too early for the birds to sing.


End file.
